The Roses We Kept
by Kayleem127
Summary: A myth passed down through the ages turns people's lives upside down. Christine dreams of a voice from a memory lost. Will Erik ever forgive his mother for wishing him away to the goblin king and learn that he deserves love? Will Jareth ever have his goblin queen? And all the while, an angry force is brewing in the Underground... (working title)
1. Chapter 1

**The Roses We Kept**

Labyrinth/Phantom Crossover (heavily Kay's Phantom, with ALW undertones later on…)

**A/N: The first part of this chapter is almost straight from Susan Kay's _Phantom_. All credit goes to her. _Phantom of the Opera_ belongs to Gaston Leroux, of course, and the musical to Andrew Lloyd Webber. And _Labyrinth_, which I so dearly love, (i.e. David Bowie, who is greatly missed) belongs to Jim Henson and company. Any other unrecognizable characters belong to me, but they'll be coming along a bit later on.**

**Also, this is a working title. I started writing this story like four years ago and still have no idea what to name it. If y'all have any suggestions as we go along, please share them!**

**I hope you enjoy this strange melding of worlds, lol.**

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Chapter One

1656 - Boscherville, France

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It was the evening of his fifth birthday; the first one in which Madeleine was going to acknowledge. But things did not go as planned, and it is a terrible thing when plans go awry.

Erik, having never known what a birthday was or what it entailed, had been curious. When he asked his mother the significance of such an event, she had simply said it was the day he was born. They were to have a special supper, and their neighbor, Marie, was bringing Erik a present. He was mildly intrigued by the notion of receiving a present, the mask he wore on his face being the only one he was able to recall. However, other than that small institution, Erik found the day to be inconsequential. He would much rather continue composing at the piano or tinkering with his little mechanical contraptions, or anything else really but a boring supper in which he would have to mind his manners lest he incur his mother's wrath. Madeleine had told him to go to his room to change for supper while she set the table three times now, and he really had meant to do so, that is, until a thought occurred to him.

"Mama," he said quietly.

"What is it now?" she demanded irritably, pulling a tablecloth from the drawer.

"Will you give me a present too?"

"Of course," she replied mechanically. "Is there something in particular that you want?"

He came to stand beside his mother as she put the napkins out on the table with a trembling hand and something about his taut silence made her suddenly very uneasy. She sensed that he was afraid of her refusal, thinking that what he wanted was going to be highly expensive, no doubt.

"May I have anything I want?" he asked uncertainly.

"Within reason."

"May I have two of them?"

"Why should you need two?" she inquired warily.

"So that I can save one for when the other is used up."

Madeleine began to relax. That didn't sound quite so alarming… by the sound of it, maybe he wanted nothing more extravagant than a ream of good quality paper. Or perhaps a box of sweets…

"What is it you want?" she demanded with sudden confidence.

Silence.

Erik began fidgeting with the napkins that were sitting on the table waiting to be folded, eyes downcast.

"Erik, I've had quite enough of this silly game now. If you don't tell me what you want straightaway, you will have nothing at all."

He jumped at the sharpness of her tone and began to twist the napkin he had picked up between his thin fingers.

"I want – I want two…" He stopped and put his hands on the table, as though to steady himself.

"For God's sake!" she snapped. "Two what?"

He looked up at her.

"Kisses," he whispered tremulously. "One now and one to save."

Madeleine stared at her son and without any warning burst into uncontrollable tears and sank down at the table.

"You must not ask that." She sobbed. "You must never, never ask that again… do you understand me, Erik… never!"

He shrank away from her noisy grief in horror and backed away to the door.

"Why are you crying?" he stammered.

Madeleine made a mighty effort to control herself.

"I'm not… crying," she gasped.

"Yes you are!" he shouted in a voice that was suddenly ugly with rage. "You're crying and you won't give me my birthday present. You made me ask – you _made_ me ask – and then you said no, well, I don't want a birthday… I don't like birthdays… I hate them!"

The door slammed behind him followed by angry footsteps up the stairs. A tense moment passed before another _slam! _came from above as the echoing bang of the door to his attic bedroom being shut harshly reverberated throughout the old house.

Madeleine sat where he had left her, staring mindlessly at the trampled napkin he had thrown to the dirty floor. No matter how much she scrubbed at it, the hours spent on her hands and knees, it never was perfectly clean. "I cannot bear this any longer… I cannot bear this burden anymore, Erik!"

Suddenly she recalled a fairy-tale she had been told as a young girl. Right now, in this moment, she longed for it to be true.

"I wish – I wish the goblins would come and take you away, right now…" she sighed wistfully, hiccoughing with leftover sobs.

_Everything was quiet in the Underground, peaceful even. A day that neither hurried nor dragged on, anticipated nor grieved, but easy and inconsequential. It was so relaxing, that the Goblin King began to pace his throne room with the ferocity of a caged lion. It was the calm often experienced just before a child was wished away, something he had learned to anticipate well in his thousands of years in existence._

_Then, he felt it. The pull of the words that, once spoken, were irretrievable. He smiled wickedly and waited. _

"I wish – I wish the goblins would come and take you away, right now…"

_"__You hear that?" the goblins squeaked excitedly. "Someone's wishing away a babe!"_

_The king whipped his head in the direction of the noise-makers. "Hush it, fools! Don't you think I know that? Go make yourself useful and frighten the mother a bit! I'll follow shortly…"_

Back in the Aboveground, lightening flashed and thunder roared with such sudden ferocity Madeleine thought the end of the world had landed on her doorstep. The curtains in the opened windows billowed out with the cutting wind, the candles flickered out, and the room plunged into utter darkness. Then, just as quickly, all fell silent.

Blindly, she climbed to her feet, stumbling through the pitch black, groping for a piece of furniture or anything that could help her find her bearing.

"Erik?" she called. No answer. "Erik!"

A shadow flitted about the edge of her vision but every time she turned her head in its direction, it vanished, followed by fits of laughter and giggles that seemed to echo around her. Her heart beat rapidly and she fought for even breaths. Then something tugged on the hem of her dress and she shrieked in terror. A sharp, disbelieving sort of fear began to choke her. Erik… where was Erik?

"Erik? Erik, please answer me!" she called out more frantically. "Where are you? Erik!"

"Oh, for the love of the goblins, would you please stop that infernal shrieking?"

Madeleine froze upon hearing the smooth timbre of an entirely unfamiliar voice come from behind her. As she turned she saw the man to whom the voice belonged, somehow bathed in a pale light despite the darkness, clothed in a black billowing cloak that swept about his grey leggings and boot-clad feet. His hair glowed white and stuck out from his head in strands like the feathers on a bird, some long enough to reach past his shoulders. The shirt he wore was the color of fresh cream, open at the neck, with loose sleeves cuffed at each wrist. There was a rather peculiar amulet glinting off his chest in the pale light shaped like a sickle. His eyes pierced her and the skin of his face was colored in places like none she had ever seen.

Madeleine gasped, making the sign of the cross upon her chest. "Ou est vous, Monsieur? S'il vous plaît ... Que voulez-vous?"

"Ah, yes, we are in France. My apologies, Madame." He said in flawless French. "It has been a long day filled with idleness and in my eagerness, I overlooked that detail."

"Who are you… what do you want?" she repeated trembling.

His high brows lifted. "You don't know?"

She shook her head and swallowed.

"Why, I am the King of the Goblins, Madame!" He feigned offense. "It is quite rude not to recognize me seeing as you addressed me yourself mere moments ago. How disappointing… I had believed the French to be a bit more accommodating."

Madeleine trembled in silence.

"Besides, this isn't about what I want, Madeleine. It is about what you want."

She eyed the man before her warily. "What do you mean?"

The Goblin King frowned at her confusion, though he was used to this reaction. "My but you are a daft woman. I have taken your son to my castle beyond the Goblin City. Come, look," he said, gesturing her over to the window and pointing out. "There."

Her hands flew to cover her mouth. For what she saw when she looked out the window was an unfamiliar and unwelcome sight indeed. The sky glowed orange and pink and the hill which they miraculously now stood upon looked out over a vast labyrinth of twists and turns and shrubbery. Beyond, very far away it seemed, stood a castle of earthen stone the likes of which Madeleine had never beheld in all her years.

"In order for you to retrieve your son, you must run my labyrinth and best it. If you manage to reach my castle before the clock strikes the thirteenth hour, I will give him back to you and you'll have no memory of ever coming to this place. But, if you should fail… your son will stay here in this realm for the rest of his days."

Her brows knit together. "Erik? You have taken him?" she asked dumbly.

The Goblin King rolled his eyes. "I have. What's said is said, after all. But, you don't have to bother yourself with all this. In fact, I've brought you a little gift…"

"A gift? What is it?" she asked, eyeing him warily.

The Goblin King flicked his wrist in the air before her and produced a glass sphere, balancing it on the tips of his slender gloved fingers. He smiled at the familiarity of this dance. "It's a crystal, nothing more. Except if you look at it this way… it will show you your dreams."

Madeleine peered into the glass and saw a man she instantly recognized. It was her husband, Charles, who was tragically lost to her before Erik's birth. Her eyes welled with tears as his apparition smiled at her the way he always did when he told her he loved her. Unthinking, she reached out a hand to the sphere, but the Goblin King snatched it away out of reach before she could touch it.

"This is not a gift for an ordinary woman who takes care of a troublesome child," he admonished quietly. He began rolling the crystal, spinning it around in his fingers until Madeleine was thoroughly entranced. "Do you want it?"

Madeleine nodded, again reaching for the crystal. But just before her fingers could make contact, he added, "Then forget the child."

To her own shock, she immediately dropped her hand back at her side, forlorn.

"No," she said, slightly surprised. "I – I want my son… and I want to go home. Please, Monsieur."

"Tsk, tsk. That is too bad, Madame. I had hoped this would be an easy transaction, but they rarely ever are, are they? Be warned Madame, I am not to be defied. You are no match for me. Leave the child and take my gift. I'll not offer it to you again."

"I-I don't think I _can_!" she replied bitterly.

The Goblin King let out a long sigh. "Very well… you have thirteen hours in which to solve the labyrinth… or your son becomes one of us, forever!"

With that he faded from her sight, as if he'd never been there at all. Regrettably, the strange new world beneath her feet remained where it was. Resigned to her choice, Madeleine began to climb down the hill toward the vast maze that lay below.

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**Extra A/N: So... there we go. This is actually the first fanfiction I ever started writing. I have over 70k words written but am nowhere near the end of the story, so it will be a long one. This story is like a child to me, so I'll never abandon it, though it may take me years to finish. I just hope someone out there enjoys it. **

**I don't know how many people will actually find my little corner of the internet with it being a bit of a weird cross-over, so idk if I should change it to just the _Phantom_ category as it is mainly an Erik/Christine story. It mostly just takes place in the Underground. Anyway, I'm rambling. **

**I'll probably post the first few chapters rather quickly, within the month, then slow it down so I always have something to post. **

**PLEASE REVIEW AND LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!**

**Thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

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The Goblin King appeared in his throne room already weary from the day. He couldn't seem to grasp why this time he should feel no desire at all to play his usual games and tricks with the runner who'd selfishly wished away her child like so many others before her. Wandering dejectedly to the open window, he peered out, gazing fondly at his beloved labyrinth below. The sight always cheered him. He noticed her then, a speck in the distance. The Frenchwoman had scarcely made it past the outer gates. With a long-suffering sigh he watched her wander back and forth in a fruitless search for the way forward. Poor woman… At this rate, she would never make it to his castle within the time limit, even if she were properly motivated. The scant amount of affection she had for her offspring not enough to be victorious. She was hardly trying!

"I beg your pardon, Monsieur, but, what is this place?"

The Goblin started, a rare occurrence, and turned abruptly to see who had addressed him. My but he was distracted today, he had almost forgotten he wouldn't be alone! Seated not at all innocently on _his_ throne was a small boy, about the age of five. He sat on his hands, feet swinging out in front of him as he examined the room around him. He wore a black piece of cloth over his face, the fraying edges hung loosely about his jaw. Crude eye holes had been carelessly snipped into the fabric which revealed oddly golden eyes. They flickered like candle flames.

"Insolent child! Get down off my throne at once and come here!" the Goblin King commanded, annoyed. The boy hopped down with uncanny grace and came to stand warily before him. "You are called Erik, no?"

"Oui, Monsieur," the boy responded, giving a curt bow as he was taught to do upon greeting, "that is my name."

"I am the Goblin King, but you may call me Jareth." He pinched the bridge of his nose trying in vain to shake off the wave of lethargy that had suddenly washed over him. _I think I may be getting a little too old for this,_ he thought to himself.

The boy gasped in wonder, "You are a _king_, Monsieur?"

Jareth glanced down at his young companion, whose eyes had grown noticeably wide as he stared up at him. "Yes lad. I am, indeed, a king. Do you know why you have been brought here?"

Erik shook his head slowly.

Jareth sighed. He never did particularly enjoy having to explain the process to a child who was grown enough to understand all the implications; unlike babies. Babies were so much easier… He crouched down on bended knee so he could be eye-level with the child.

"Your mother has wished you away to me. The only way she can win you back and return home with you is if she defeats my labyrinth, and makes it here to the castle within thirteen hours' time."

Erik's golden eyes darkened as he shifted his gaze to the floor and nodded as if he expected this to be the case all along. Jareth took a moment to examine the boy's appearance; concluding the child bared a facial deformity, thus being the reason for which his mother must have wished him away. It did show something on her part however, that she should have ultimately refused to simply leave him here without at least an attempt at retrieval, but what exactly that trait was he could not fathom. For the Goblin King saw only the smallest bit of natural love within her heart for her child. Jareth immediately felt pity for the boy, Erik. He truly was unwanted in the most pitiable of ways. It was a wonder to Jareth that Madeleine had endured this long without calling on him sooner.

"Come," Jareth commanded, gesturing for Erik to follow him into the grand corridor beyond the throne room. "Tell me what you like to do for fun."

"Fun?"

"Mmm, perhaps tell me what you would be doing right now were you not in this place with me."

Erik thought for a moment before responding.

"I suppose I should very much like to be playing the harpsichord… you _do_ have instruments here, don't you?" the boy asked, suddenly worried.

Jareth laughed heartily. "Of course! Here in the Underground is any instrument you could possibly imagine."

He led Erik into a grand room, larger than the entire house he and his mother inhabited. It had a large stone fireplace where the flames crackled and snapped at the wood that lay on its hearth. The room was pleasantly warm, and all the furniture glowed with the orange firelight. Books were stacked floor to ceiling on dark wooden shelves against every wall of the room but one from which large windows overlooked the labyrinth and the vast landscape beyond. A bright harpsichord sat near the windows surrounded by various other instruments, some of which Erik had never seen before but excited him thoroughly nonetheless. His fingers twitched in anticipation of learning their secrets.

"Go on," Jareth said, placing an encouraging hand on the boy's back. "Play something."

Erik was immediately drawn to the harpsichord. He had never seen such a gorgeous instrument. The intricate gold carvings and colorful chinoiserie instantly enticed him to run his hands over the instrument in adoration. When the old doctor who had birthed him hauled home the old broken thing he had learned on, Erik had tinkered with it as best he could. It's sound was never right, no matter how hard he tried to fix it, the poor battered instrument had simply seen its last days. But this one… he could hear it beckoning him forward, and he was unable and unwilling to oppose its pull. He sat down at the matching bench slowly and carefully, not really believing he could be sitting at such an apparatus the likes of which surely sat within King Louis XIV's private chambers at the Palais des Tuileries in the heart of Paris. Erik had only dreamed of such luxurious things.

Jareth took a seat on a nearby settee and watched as the boy's slender fingers caressed the keys, almost lovingly, for a few moments. He began a series of scales, grinning to find the harpsichord tuned to perfection. Jareth looked on in pleasant surprise, enjoying the sounds of the keys as the child pressed them down with flawless precision and pressure, taking the instrument through the movements with neither mistake nor one moment of hesitation.

When he exhausted every key available to him Erik began a rather intricate, fast-paced composition to which his natural skill, speed, and precision was truly exercised and showcased. As the piece came to an end, Erik transitioned into a lilting tune, a song so full of mourning and loneliness that Jareth was forced to wipe the tear that had escaped his eye. He peered at the wetness shimmering on his black glove with surprise, then vague confusion. No music had ever moved him so.

So far, Erik had been somewhat hunched over the instrument, swaying back and forth as he played. Now he straightened, squared his shoulders, and breathed deep into his little belly. When he opened his mouth to sing, every particle of dust in the room, no, in the world, ceased its movement. All stilled in the wake of the music the small boy produced. Jareth was pretty certain his jaw had dropped to the floor. He'd never in all his existence heard such a sound, or _felt_ was more like it.

Erik's voice was that of an angel; smooth and entrancing and more beautiful than anything the Goblin King had ever imagined a mere voice could be. In fact, he was quite positive the child had long ago surpassed singing with merely his vocal cords and air, but with the very life-force that resided within the universe. Erik went from piece to piece yet each one seemed to intertwine with the others until Jareth did not know how long the boy had been lost in the music. The songs he sang didn't even have words, yet Jareth felt what the boy expressed. So much had been bottled inside the child, and here in Jareth's library, the boy had the support and freedom to release it all without reserve. Something, Jareth realized, he probably did not get a chance to do often with the mother he had.

The child was _wonderful_; a genius! One to be nourished and loved, not hidden away and scorned. It did not matter that his face surely haunted his mother's nightmares, she should have been able to see past anything and into her child's heart; for Jareth found it to be pure and good, yet unsullied by the evil humankind would surely afford him in abundance should he remain among them. And Erik's mind was sharp, capable of things his human contemporaries would never be able to nurture properly, and surely his genius would alienate him from the acceptance of others.

Jareth continued to stare at the boy as he sang, the Goblin King's mind almost leaving his control. He shook his head to clear it, quickly recognizing but not quite believing the affect the boy's voice was having on him. It was powerful, very powerful indeed to catch him so off-guard. If the child fell into the wrong hands, he would surely learn to use his voice as a weapon, which was entirely likely in the Underground. Jareth could not let that happen. He hadn't even realized how long he and the boy had been sitting here in the library, for hours had passed without his knowledge. Yes, the boy certainly had some uncanny power inside him to have entranced the Goblin King so thoroughly.

Suddenly, Jareth heard the frantic call of Madeleine reverberate in the recesses of his mind from somewhere inside the labyrinth.

_"__Goblin King!"_ she called desperately.

Jareth's mental faculties were now clear and under his own control again. He produced a crystal and saw that she had not yet gotten far. In fact, she was still in the same area he had last seen her, practically still at the beginning, and wandering dangerously close to an oubliette. She'd had more than enough time by now to make a good amount of progress and he shook his head in mock-pity.

_"__Please, Monsieur! I can't do this! I give up…"_ Madeleine pleaded.

Jareth stood and came behind Erik, now silent at the harpsichord as if he sensed the moment his mother gave up. He stared at the keys as if they were speaking to him and he alone could hear their words. Jareth placed a broad hand on his shoulder.

"You play magnificently for one so young. I thank you."

Erik tensed at the contact but when the expected blow did not come, he relaxed, dropping his shoulders. He was unused to a kind touch that held no violent intent.

Jareth frowned, a wave of paternal affection washing over him. He drew his hand away from Erik and cleared his throat.

"There is a matter I must attend to presently. Will you be alright here by yourself?"

The boy nodded and the Goblin King disappeared from the room.

Madeleine had indeed wandered into an oubliette, not very far from the entrance to the labyrinth. She was sitting on the floor in the darkness holding her knees to her chest and rocking back and forth. Jareth scowled at her before illuminating the room in candlelight.

"You've hardly been in the labyrinth for more than a few hours… are you sure you do not wish to keep going?" Despite what people often thought, Jareth _could_ be generous if he felt they were truly repentant for their mistake. He knew when people were deserving of defeating his labyrinth, and he would afford them more time if they needed it. He sensed no such remorse in Madeleine other than the shame that often accompanies defeat.

"Yes," she croaked, voice hoarse from her previous panic.

"You didn't try too terribly hard-"

"It matters not. I cannot go on," she declared decisively.

"As you wish… but you shall never see your child again, Madeleine. When I return you to your home you will have no memory of your journey here, or of ever having him…"

When she remained staring at her knees in silence he huffed in disbelief, then annoyance. "Oh, very well! Away with you then-"

Madeleine jumped to her feet. "Wait!"

"What is it, now?" Jareth snapped impatiently.

"Please," she implored, wringing her hands in her skirts, "promise me that you will – that you'll take care of him? Please… show him the love I could not give him…"

Upon hearing her desperate plea and noting the sincerity with which she spoke, Jareth's expression softened. He gentled his tone. "You can be assured, Madame, your child will want for nothing."

"Merci, Monsieur." She smiled shakily, tears shining down her flushed cheeks. "I-I think I'm ready to go now. It is better this way. It is better for him… I know it."

"I'll permit you to see him one last time if you-"

"No… no. It is better this way," she repeated, eyes glossy and unfocused.

Jareth regarded her sadly. "I only hope I can reverse the injustices you have already served him; all the affections you denied him."

Madeleine's cheeks flushed in shame. "As do I," she whispered.

"Adieu, Madame."

She stiffened at his dismissal. He had marked with clarity the finality of this goodbye and even in her fatigued state she understood. There would be no going back, but at least she would forget and live out her days in blissful ignorance. And somewhere deep down inside her, she felt she had finally done something right by Erik. She smiled wistfully, comforted by the thought. She was ready to forget; she was ready to go home without her child and know of him no more.

"Adieu, Monsieur Goblin King," she whispered reverently.

In the next instant, she was gone.

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Jareth paced back and forth in the empty oubliette for some time after Madeleine was gone, pondering over just what to do with the boy. He certainly wasn't going to turn him into a goblin, a rumor he absolutely despised; he never could seem to separate the absurd notion from his title. But where to put him? Surely, _Jareth_ couldn't raise the child himself?

The Goblin King paused for a moment. Why couldn't he raise the boy as his own? There was no rule nor law that stated he could not; no caveat that he be _required_ to place a child elsewhere than his own home if he so desired. Jareth smiled. He felt an immediate fondness for the little Frenchman. He yearned to teach him, to mold him to his true potential which could never have otherwise been realized in the Aboveground. Yes, he would keep him here where he could take care of him, just as Madeleine had requested. Though, he liked to think that he would've done this regardless if she had asked him to or not.

He only hoped he could do right by the boy. He would have to watch him closely, keep him safe from prying eyes. Even his parents, the High King and Queen could not know of the boy, not yet. They wouldn't understand, nor would they be willing to think Jareth had no ulterior motive in keeping him. They knew him too well… and yet, they didn't know him at all. Erik was special, and anyone who didn't readily see that upon meeting him did not deserve to be in his presence, and most importantly, in his life. Jareth would take good care of him, grant him his every need without spoiling him. Raising him to be a man would be a task Jareth had never before encountered, but he was determined to be a good guardian to Erik and, dare he even think, a father? The boy had never known his true father; did he even know what one was? He was smart, surely he'd figured it out by now, but would he accept Jareth as that figure in his life?

"Only time will tell, Erik. But I do promise you this, you will never be alone again. You will not be frightened of a harsh word or flinch at a gentle touch. You will know what it is like to be properly cared for, and you will not live in fear of rejection and scorn simply because you are different. Of this, I will make absolutely sure."

As Jareth voiced his oath aloud, he felt more and more sure of his decision. No matter what happened, he would watch out for the boy, protect him to the best of his ability, and perhaps one day, Erik would take over his throne; if he found a way to bypass all those _laws_… But whatever the future was to bring, Jareth would make sure it was good.

Jareth found Erik still seated at the harpsichord in the library, only now his hands were beneath him and he was peering out the large window to his left absently. He did not turn to look at Jareth as he came up beside him, as if he didn't know he had reappeared in the room, but Jareth knew the boy had sensed his presence.

"My mother lost, didn't she?" Erik asked, though really it was more of statement than a question.

Jareth sighed. "Yes… yes, she did, lad."

"She just gave up, d-didn't she? We've only been here a few hours. You said she had _thirteen_. Sh-She didn't even _try_ to g-get me b-b-b-back…" Erik stuttered. He was starting to cry. Genius or not, he was too young to handle his mother's obvious abandonment and utter dismissal of him from her life. Erik wanted to be strong, but it hurt too much. Why couldn't she have loved him?

Jareth's heart gave a painful lurch and he was pulled insistently toward the boy in an urgent need to comfort and soothe. The cruelty of humans rarely astounded the Goblin King anymore, this time no different from the others. The boy deserved so much more than to be dealt this harsh hand, as did all children.

Erik sat looking at the labyrinth, angry tears streaming down his face when he felt a big warm hand on his back. He quickly jerked forward away from the contact, as was his automatic response. Jareth let out a sad sigh and came around to face him, placing both hands on his shoulders firmly to keep him still. The boy glanced up at him, eyes blurry and red, expression both frightened and angry.

"W-w-what's going to h-happen to me, Monsieur? Are you going to hurt me?"

Jareth frowned and crouched down so Erik had to look slightly down at him.

"Why would I think I would hurt you, Erik?"

Erik wiped his nose on his sleeve and sniffled loudly, his breathing erratic. "B-because, e-e-everyone d-d-d-does!"

"Erik, I would never cause harm to come to you, and those who have treated you cruelly in the past can never hurt you again. They are gone. You won't ever have to see them again. You will stay here, with me. I will take care of you now, do you understand?"

"But Monsieur, my mother didn't want me, why w-would you want m-me?"

Jareth smiled. "Because, dear boy, you are very special. I like you, and there are many things I would like to teach you. So, will you stay here with me?"

The child smiled delicately, a fragile glimmer of hope shining in his eyes.

"May… May I be allowed to play the harpsichord?"

Jareth chuckled lightly. "Whenever you wish, dear boy. And anything else you may desire to try your hand at. What's mine is yours."

"Then I would like that very much, Monsieur."

Jareth smiled. "Excellent. I shall have a room prepared for you next to my own bedchamber. Will that be satisfactory?"

"Oh, yes, Monsieur! That would be wonderful!"

"You're a good boy, Erik. Don't let anyone ever tell you otherwise."

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